


In Love With My Local DJ Radio Station (Or Maybe Just the DJ)

by ZephyrCamida



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, College AU, Dorky Yams being Adorbs, I really don't know how to tag this actually, M/M, Radio DJ Tsukki, Yams crushing hard on the man through the radio waves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrCamida/pseuds/ZephyrCamida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamaguchi thinks that maybe he has a couple screws loose – considering his absolute determination to catch every single evening radio show, starting exactly at 10:15 and ending at eleven for a total of forty-five blissful minutes of listening to that puddle inducing voice of the less than polite and more than opinionated DJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Love With My Local DJ Radio Station (Or Maybe Just the DJ)

**Author's Note:**

> Yamaguchi is a dork and I won't take him any other way. <3

Based off this prompt post on [Tumblr](http://tsukiyamaforthesoul.tumblr.com/post/101648267162/college-au-where-tsukki-works-for-the-student), requested by a friend~

* * *

 

 

“Oh crap. Oh crap! _Ohh –_ “

 

There is only so much grace that one Tadashi Yamaguchi can muster while haphazardly throwing himself through the threshold of his tiny, barely one-man apartment. Stumbling in with the finesse of an elephant on skates, the speckled brunet tumbles forward in his struggle to remove his shoes and backpack in the same motion. He knows that he'll be searching for the contents of his bag later, judging by the multitude of clatters that sound against the laminate floor of his kitchen as the bulky article slides clear over the counter that he tries to toss it on.

 

“Son of a...” he frees his second shoe with a kick of the century – it hits the wall across the room and Yamaguchi only hopes that the neighbors don't hear his frantic shenanigans. There are only so many funny looks he can take in a week before just perpetually living in red-cheeked embarrassment. After a ridiculous mental ' _Goal~' –_ and a nail in the coffin reminder that he really is an odd one, why deny it? – he bounds down the hall and into his bedroom, pulling out his iPod and headphones as he throws himself to the bed.

 

Today is important. _Very_ important. The kind of important that rivals exam results and meeting your mother's soon-to-be new husband. The kind of important in which Yamaguchi would hold the regret of a man who stupidly let his love go and fall into the arms of his arch nemesis in a cheesy romance movie if he missed this chance. Or winning the lottery.

 

 _That_ kind of important.

 

Yamaguchi thinks that maybe he has a couple screws loose – considering his absolute determination to catch every single evening radio show, starting exactly at 10:15 and ending at eleven for a total of forty-five blissful minutes of listening to that puddle inducing voice of the less than polite and more than opinionated DJ.

 

He hasn't missed his segment for the last three weeks, hasn't missed making a request on the station's website for the last two after his initial crush came crashing in like a damn stampeding monster, and _everyday_ Yamaguchi thinks endlessly about the man behind the voice he's unmistakably fallen for.

 

More and more, those emotions bustle and grow in size with each sarcastic word, or each random fact about several prehistoric species. The guy sounds like a jerk sometimes, but Yamaguchi doesn't miss the underlying charm and intelligence in that smooth tone. Honestly, his feelings probably are the size of a blimp – burning hot and tight and ready to explode with a measly pinprick.

 

Head over heels in love with a disembodied voice, indeed. _Ugh._

 

There's definitely more than a couple scattered screws, but there is not one freckle on Yamaguchi's body that cares in the slightest, and his brain (and heart) agree at light speed.

 

Wriggling around, the jittery brunet clutters about until his feet are resting on his headboard and his lanky form is sprawled against the wall. He half savors the coolness on his cheek as his skims through his device, quickly thumbing through to his favorites and tapping that radio station like his life depends on it. There's maybe a minute, if that, before the show starts, and he doesn't want to miss a snarky word. Of course, his headphones are like a wiry labyrinth, and it takes him ten too many seconds to untangle the stupid mess before plugging them in and splitting into an instant grin as a familiar voice flows into his ears and makes his throat tight.

 

“ – _nd that was Let Me Go by Avril Lavigne._ “ There is the briefest pause, Yamaguchi almost imagines the snort coming through his headphones before the voice continues. “ _I remember back in 2002 when she was a huge hit among my peers..._ ”

 

The brunet nudges an ear bud more snugly into his ear, clearing the slight muffle of the gravelly voice talking so intimately into his ear. Well, it feels intimate anyway. It's the voice Yamaguchi's well acquainted to at this point – a radio show DJ from a nearby college that is way beyond the brunet's academic standards. A shame, really. He can only imagine how insanely attractive this guy had to be if even the sound of his low-toned, up to eleven sarcastic voice leaves the poor brunet in both stitches and a swarming of angry butterflies and goose pimply skin.

 

What he wouldn't give to have that voice whisper in his ear. Literally, with hot breath and heart rupturing closeness and mouth skirting the flesh of his neck –

 

Yamaguchi abruptly shushes his guttered brain and throws his head sideways, startled by the shrill white noise of misfired frequency suddenly buzzing in the background, and hits the wall with a thud. With an inaudible grumble, the brunet rolls back over and cranes his nape against the plaster-speckled wall. This position really isn't comfortable at _all_ , but sacrifices needed to be made for the sake of Mr. Velvet Vocals.

 

The radio station clears after an awkward shift or two of Yamaguchi's arm sliding outstretched along the wall, and he sighs in relief as clear vocals come rushing back to his ear drums.

 

“ – _No, that's all I have. I honestly wish I didn't remember that phase of my life. What's with with you people and bubblegum pop music?_ ”

 

Yamaguchi almost swallows his gum as he bursts with a small gurgle of laughter. Listening the DJ 'Firefly' – as he's labeled by the other DJs – instantly dive into his bag of haughty mouth offs is definitely a welcome trill in his ears. The guy is funny, even when he's being absolutely unbearable, and the brunet can't exactly say he disagrees with Firefly's varied opinions – as crass as he comes off when giving them to the populous, but Yamaguchi loves even that.

 

And he's the most listened to DJ on this station for a reason too, so he knows he's not the only one.

 

For the entirety of Firefly's (all too short) excerpt, Yamaguchi closes his eyes. Simply enjoys the introspect prose and random breakdowns of song eras between songs, and even gets a lengthy factoid about the iconic match up of the mother of carnivores, a tyrannosaurus and it's long known powerhouse opponent, a triceratops – each the acme of their species as the DJ claims. Yamaguchi knows he smiles the widest when Firefly talks about dinosaurs – it clearly sounds like a personal passion and the extensive knowledge he's learned just from tuning in every night could easily allow him to write an essay.

 

“ – _it's rather easy to choose a violent, predatory being over a dull-brained herbivore, but it's been proven in modern day that you can't necessarily underestimate the underdog. And besides, a –_ “

 

It's right as Firefly finishes his last minuscule details that Yamagushi feels a ticklish lump settle in his stomach. As soon as this story finishes, the program will switch to a nonstop play list for the following hour. And what starts off that long procession of the most popular hits (usually played over and over until you could vomit dubstep beats and whiny pop songs) is what Yamaguchi dubs 'The First Request'.

 

Firefly sends off the last touch of his radio show with choosing the song to start the audio marathon, and makes a personal comment on the choice of song. Sometimes he'll make a prickly, opinionated remark about the tastes of this generation, and sometimes he analyzes the song or artist – a rare occurrence that denounces his underlying fondness for the song he's about to let loose over the airwaves before his departure.

 

Yamaguchi requests songs everyday before he comes home from work, almost getting in trouble by his boss on multiple occasions for messing around on his phone, and in the last three weeks he's heard his request be honored by Firefly a total of five times. Each song he requests tend to hold his silly longings and wanton fantasies of meeting this mystery DJ. Each one packing his feelings into a craftily picked song – lyrics all too meaningful to the rumbling under his skin, and thrumming beneath his rib cage.

 

And each of the five he picked – picked for Firefly himself – has been commented on. Lavished even, at least by Firefly's standards. It leaves Yamaguchi's mind racing now every time the radio show comes to a close. A fleeting chance to connect with his long-standing crush, it's way too unreal yet extremely exciting.

 

The station goes quiet for a couple moments. The gap only makes the brunet's heart palpitate even quicker, clearly advancing to hammer levels. He clutches the music device for dear life, crossing the toes snug in his socks even for his song to be picked today. Last time his song was chosen, it was 'Love Runs Out' by OneRepublic.

 

He spent the next consecutive twelve waking hours after Firefly's commentary humming the lyrics over and over until his brain almost had a meltdown. He vaguely remembers even dreaming about doing the same, skipping down the street in happiness. The whole affair was rather silly, and he definitely doesn't deny that he's probably way on the cheesy side of the romantic spectrum, but Yamaguchi blames that fuzzy feeling.

 

“ – _and to close off this evening, I'll be selecting the start to another drippy pop-and-drop-stocked marathon for you late evening insomniacs. We have..._ ”

 

Firefly pauses in Yamaguchi's ears, and the brunet is almost positive that no one listening on an open stereo can hear the light hum that barely sounds in his headphones. His whole body freezes on the bed, and he finds himself holding his breath. For some reason, one Yamaguchi can't even fathom between his light sleepiness and the loud _pounding_ ringing in his ears, his chest is raging with heavy drums – like a downpour of rain and waves of thunder have taken home in his very ribs, rattling them hard.

 

He feels it before he hears it, and he can't compare the explosion to anything but dynamite going off in his body.

 

“ – _another request by Freckled and Fascinated, for Do I Wanna Know? By Arctic Monkeys. I could say that they're vastly overplayed like other artist like, say, Lorde, but I have a personal...inclination to this kind of song as of late? We'll call it that for now. Regardless, here's Do I Wanna Know? –_ “

 

Officially, Yamaguchi is a popped balloon, body sinking into the mattress as the opening lyrics blare through the ear buds that now lay near his face – falling out from his _tiny_ little flail that _might_ have happened when Firefly said his username aloud. Even though he barely hears the lyrics, he mouths them effortlessly, bathing in the aura of satisfaction and growing elation. It's as if Firefly said his actual name, said that he has a preference for someone with his taste in music.

 

Delusions be damned, a sixth pick is just way too amazing for his poor mind to handle – he might just flat out dissolve into vapors at this point.

 

Slowly, he nuzzles a bud back into an ear, head bobbing to the paced beat and feet tapping the wood of his headboard. Drowning out everything else but the music, and his fluttering thoughts of this small, if not impalpable bond with this person within the radio waves.

 

“ – back to you~” Yamaguchi snatches a pillow just as the song ends, popping it with a heavy puff over his face as he lets out a silly, love-struck sigh. It really is too much. Even without his thoughts running on hyper drive, the tingles in his fingers and toes probably would still remind him constantly of how hard he's fallen. And he knows he'll be singing in his dreams again too, like he always does. The brunet shakes on the bed, pulling the pillow down just enough so he can peek at the ceiling.

 

He blinks once, glances outside as a wave of light passes across his window – a car driving by – and it's only then that he realizes that there isn't another song playing like usual. He checks his iPod, looks confused at the screen when it indeed shows that the station is still in frequency. Just as he's flipping on his stomach, hugging his body to the wall and moving his arm in case he did drop the station on accident, a voice picks up. A very, very familiar voice.

 

Yamaguchi's heart stops.

 

“ – _ormally isn't something I do, but lets have one more request song before I sign out for the night. Here's one by Intrigued By The Stars On Your Skin, Dark Horse by Katy Perry. Not a personal favorite by far, but what can I say? You'll get it,_ _ **won't you**_ _, F and F?_ ”

 

Firefly's voice sounds almost smug, maybe humored. Yamaguchi can't bring himself to care, he's sitting up – dragging his shoulder against the wall as his mouth drops open, eyes unbelievable wide. The frequency starts to flicker, scratching noises breaking up words but he _doesn't care._ He touches his face, fingering his cheek as if checking the reality of what he just heard. His face burns, burns incredibly warm, and a jolt works its way down his spine.

 

It's him.

 

Firefly is _talking_ to him.

 

“Oh... _oh my god_ ,” he manages to utter quietly, the single bud barely hanging on in his ear letting him hear the last white noise laced words through his thundering heart.

 

“ – _and now, late n-t troglodytes, I'll be heading -- out to enjoy some straw--rry cake at the 24 hour diner across f--m Eleven-Mart. Can you catch me? Enjoy your trashy pop mara--n~ Firefly, signin–_ “

 

Yamaguchi is out the door by the end of the first chorus.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts like this normally aren't my forte, but I had fun with it none the less. Hope you enjoyed and thanks for all of the support and feedback I've gotten both on here and on Tumblr. You guys rock. Until next time!


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